


Numb

by civillove



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Episode Related, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 02:36:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8648464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/civillove/pseuds/civillove
Summary: Her hands are numb. 
Which is…odd, despite the complexity of what she’s been through the past week. She figures, whatever the feeling, she can’t quite trust herself. At least, not completely. Ever since she’s stared helping Barry, the Flash—the fastest man alive, she feels like her life has become the epitome of a hurricane. 
--Had to write this. 3x07 reaction fic.





	

**Author's Note:**

> AU in the fact that Iris and Barry aren't dating. Dat boi is single, just for snowbarry feels sake.

Her hands are numb.

Which is…odd, despite the complexity of what she’s been through the past week. She figures, whatever the feeling, she can’t quite trust herself. At least, not completely. Ever since she’s stared helping Barry, the Flash—the fastest man alive, she feels like her life has become the epitome of a hurricane.

Everything whirling around her, out of reach, nothing she can recognize or even hold onto for support. Nothing to ground her. Don’t get her wrong—it’s exciting and satisfying, and she loves being a part of something that matters. But sometimes things catch up with her, sometimes there’s a harsh reminder that she is not the one who’s moving faster than the speed of light.

No. She’s merely caught up in his wake, sometimes tumbling towards things unknown. Sometimes she forgets the gravity of consequences for equal and opposite reactions—she forgets that sometimes you pay for other people’s mistakes.

These powers of hers are…terrifying and powerful, beautiful in a way deadly things usually are. The cold in her veins moves as fast as icebergs. Seemingly controllable, predictable, but an unknowing underneath the surface. The promise of destruction if one gets too close.

Like Barry.

Caitlin thinks that she’d admire him if he wasn’t so damned frustrating. Her powers had amplified feelings she’d kept buried underneath her ribcage, had lowered her inhibitions so that her tongue was sharp and as deadly as the frost that came out of her fingertips.

She’d hurt him. She’d betrayed a piece of herself that wants to protect Barry at all costs, even if that means sacrificing herself. She was selfish. For once, she put herself before anyone. Before anything.

Even before her feelings for Barry.

Does she feel guilty? No. But maybe that, within itself, is something she should feel guilty about.

The lab is empty, people have gone home. She’s left with hard metal and blinking machines. She thinks she might sleep here. She doesn’t want to go home. She doesn’t want to move, afraid she might crack and shatter into millions shards of ice.

Caitlin rubs her hands together, trying to create some friction.

Being alone suits her just fine. She has time to think, to decompress. Unwind. Try to figure out where she goes from here because for once, she doesn’t know. She’s not two steps ahead. She can’t stop thinking about the past few hours, about how quickly she almost became something else. Someone else.

But really, wasn’t it all chemically based? A reaction that she couldn’t have stopped? How long have these powers been waiting underneath her skin to be activated? How long has Killer Frost been binding her time until the exact moment where she could break free, take control?

Caitlin shudders and stands up abruptly from the stool she’s sitting on, no longer able to sit still. She starts putting things away in her lab, unwrapping and rewrapping equipment, organizing files. Something—anything to keep her busy.

Everyone has a dark side, she knows this, even someone as good and pure as Barry has his moments. But was this hers? Someone like that, a part of her all along just—buried? Hidden? Dormant? Only highlighted and amplified from meta-human powers?

That can’t be a part of her, can it? Someone so capable of— doing whatever it takes to come out on top. Of hurting, of killing people she loves.

She closes her eyes.

_Her eyes are the color of a frozen pond._

_Barry will never forget that because he feels like he could fall right through. Drown in them._

_This has to work. Not just for Wally, but for Caitlin’s sake. He has to save her. That’s what heroes do. He can’t give up on her, he doesn’t care what her mouth says; how she conveys that she doesn’t need him. Because she does. He refuses to lose her and he doesn’t care about how selfish that sounds._

_If Caitlin wants to leave, then she can. But she has to do one thing for him first._

_“You have to kill me.”_

_She watches him very carefully, analyzing his every move. Like some sort of insect stalking her prey. She doesn’t trust him. But even as fogged frost creates a daggered icicle in her hand, he can see the doubt in her eyes. The confusion._

_That’s his way in. She’s not going to go through with this._

_“What are you waiting for? What’s the big deal? Come on, live up to your name, Killer Frost. I wanna see some killing.” He taunts. The jagged end of the icicle presses against his chest but it doesn’t move from there._

_There’s no force behind it, no malice, a silent conversation playing behind her eyes. He knows what kind of a risk he’s taking, but he’s willing to bet on her. He’d bet on her every time._

_“You wanna be the villain, this is what they do. They kill their friends cause nothing matters to them anymore, right?”_

_He’s hurting her. It’s working. Caitlin’s face is twisting with the weight of this decision, of what her choice will mean when and if she goes through with it._

_Barry isn’t gentle, he grabs her forearm and presses that icicle against his chest. “_ Right?” _He snaps, the cold seeping through his shirt. His eyes bore into her own, warm and insistent and begging her to listen. “Come on, kill me Caitlin.”_

_A soft sound caught between a gasp and a whimper leaves her mouth; he can only hear it because they’re so close. And he’s got her. He’s gotten through to her. She’s unraveling with the heaviness of the choice at hand._

_She can’t do it._

_Barry shakes his head, thumb working in circles against her wrist. “You can’t do it. You can’t. Because underneath all that cold is still you.”_

_Caitlin yanks her hand out of Barry’s touch, the ice falling from her hand and shattering. The cold disappears from her eyes, replaced with a coffee colored brown. She chokes on a sob, her hand going to her mouth before she whispers his name._

_He takes a step towards her as she winds her arms around his neck and he sighs, relief flooding his ribcage as he embraces her. This is her._ His _Caitlin._

_“It’s okay,” He whispers, his one hand stroking her back as her face presses into his shoulder. Her entire body is shuddering; she’s still cool to the touch. “I got you, it’s okay.”_

_And it will be. One of his hands rest on the back of her head, fingers weaving through her brown locks._

_He’s going to make sure of that._

Caitlin opens her eyes as she hears a set of footsteps behind her, whirling around to catch sight of Barry zooming away from a flash of frost from her fingertips. Habit. Reaction, something she doesn’t have any control over.

“Woah, hey!” Barry says, now behind her once again. She turns to see him with his hands up in front of himself, like a shield, watching her with a careful and guarded expression. “It’s okay.”

“You can’t startle me like that.” She insists, trembling. She forces her hands down to her sides, Barry straightening his back so he’s less defensive. “You can’t.”

“Okay. Noted.”  Barry nods, a small smile tugging at the one corner of his mouth. Something to make her feel more comfortable—it doesn’t work. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know you were still here, I thought you went home.”

“I don’t want to yet.” She says, under her breath. Caitlin doesn’t look at him in the eye, curling her hair around her ear. “I’m not ready.”

“And what, you’re just going to spend the night here?” He sees right through the wall she’s trying to build around herself. He always can. Barry understands her in a way other people rarely do. “You can’t do this to yourself.”

Caitlin doesn’t know how she should act, but it’s certainly not ‘brush everything under the rug and pretend everything is okay’. It’s not okay. How she behaved and what she almost did is _not_ okay.

Barry takes a small step towards her, gently touching her shoulder, “Come on, let me take you home.” And she pulls herself out of his touch, taking a step back, flinching as if he’s hurt her somehow.

His hand stays outstretched towards her before it slowly falls to his side. He watches her carefully, his eyes tracing over her form. She’s always _hated_ how he can just do that. Read her like an open book. His eyes strip her down to her barest form, something much more vulnerable than being naked.

“You’re not going to hurt me.”

She laughs, but doesn’t mean to. “You sound so sure.”

“I think we’ve proven that already. You wouldn’t kill me.”

Something in her coils tightly around her ribcage as Barry speaks. He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t _understand._ Yes, he got through to her, he spoke to the person locked away while Killer Frost spoke with her tongue and touched with her fingertips. No, she didn’t kill him.

But what he doesn’t _see_ is—“I wanted to.” Caitlin says, very abrupt. She silences whatever Barry is about to say. “You don’t understand, _I wanted_ to kill you.” Her voice is thick with emotion, the kind that hurts the back of her throat from keeping it at bay. From keeping it from exploding out of her chest in a mess of tears and distorted words.

Barry’s reaction is a mix of emotions. Of empathy and anguish and _pain._ Not because of what she’s saying but for _her._ He’s hurting because she’s hurt.

“Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?” She chokes out, her eyes filling with tears. She pulls away from him once again. She doesn’t want him to touch her. “That’s a part of me, something ugly and— _here,”_ She points at her chest. “Right here.”

There’s a possibility that keeps replaying in her head, a thought process of Killer Frost. Of that icicle sliding into Barry’s chest, directly into his heart. The warm blood oozing around the ice; in theory it should melt. But because it’s an extension of her, it doesn’t. It remains cold, freezes Barry’s insides.

It kills him.

Blood leaking from his mouth as he falls to his knees.

A possibility that she didn’t go through with because she _loves_ him. But the fact that wanting to kill him is there? A killer instinct that lives somewhere inside of her? How is she supposed to live with that?

Caitlin hates how he’s looking at her. Barry doesn’t pity her, no. He would never. He hates that she’s in pain and that he can’t do anything to help her.

“I understand what it’s like to struggle with something dark,” He whispers, “It makes you human, Caitlin.”

Barry moves to touch her again, this time refusing to let her push him away. His one hand gently wraps around her forearm while the other moves to cup her face. Tears press down her cheeks, some freezing into tiny bits of ice on the way down, others dripping off her jawline.

“The point is not how close you almost gave in,” He thumbs across her cheek, her hand resting against his wrist as she closes her eyes. “But that you didn’t.”

He presses a kiss to her forehead, Caitlin melting under his touch. She leans into his chest, her head moving from his hand to rest against his shoulder. He lets out a soft breath, his arms winding around her once again—like they belong there. Like they never should have left from there in the first place.

“Let’s get you home.” He says, lifting her up—and in a flash, they’re gone.

000

Home doesn’t feel quite like home. She didn’t think it would. Since her transformation, nothing feels like it used to. It’s almost like coming back after a long vacation or visiting a place years after it’s changed. Or you’ve changed. It feels like that.

She knows in reality that it’s only been a few hours since she’s crossed that threshold, gotten undressed and crawled into bed. But it feels like years. Feels like a different Caitlin.

Barry must sense that she’s uncomfortable or understand that something isn’t quite right because he stays after he sets her down in her bedroom. He hovers without trying to look like he’s hovering. He never does that well. His limbs are too long, he’s too outwardly concerned to be nonchalant.

She finds it endearing anyways.

Caitlin pauses at her dresser, pulls out a pair of sweatpants and a long sleeved t-shirt. She feels like she’s moving in slow motion, or that her movements are underwater. Limbs feel heavy. She’s exhausted. Barry is wandering around her room, pretending to be busy, pretending to notice things even though he’s been there a few times.

In her bedroom and always the gentleman.

“I didn’t know you liked _Seinfeld.”_ She turns to see him at her television, pointing to a disc set of season 4 of the series.

If she felt more like herself she’d probably smile, tease him that there’s lot of things that he doesn’t know about her. He may even smile back, because it’d sound like flirting. And they do that sometimes without giving it a name or any meaning. Because they dance around one another like they’ve got all the time in the world to figure it out.

But she doesn’t feel like herself. And she doesn’t feel like pretending she’s okay when she’s not. “I do. At least lately.”

She pulls her sweater over her head, her fingers shaking as she sets the fabric down on her bed. Barry has turned already to give her the privacy of changing her clothes, but he still talks to her even with his back to her.

“Are you cold?”

She laughs a little, the sound dry and almost close to a scoff. “Yes. Think it might just become part of my chemical makeup.” She swallows. “Guess I should have known better with a last name like Snow.”

Barry laughs like it’s snuck up on him, like he’s not quite sure if he should. The sound is warm and inviting and Caitlin wants to bury herself in it. Hide there, relish in the heat it leaves behind. She could get used to that. It could save her.

She takes off her jeans and her undershirt, changing into her pajamas. It takes a little longer with the shaking and Barry rocks back and forth on his heels, very patient.

“If you need help, just…let me know.” She raises an eyebrow at that, she can hear the smile in his voice. The blush that creeps onto his cheeks. “That wasn’t supposed to sound as dirty as it did.”

And Caitlin…smiles. Just slightly, a crack in her icy exterior. “I knew this whole Killer Frost thing was just a ploy so you could sneak a peek at my goodies.”

Barry turns after a moment when she takes the clothes off of her bed and puts them in a basket by her bathroom door. “And how’s that working out for me?” He’s got a lazy smile on his face, though it’s tired. She can see right through it because it matches her own exhaustion.

This banter between them though? It’s nice. It feels normal, feels like home more than her apartment ever could.

“I’d say you’re headed in the right direction.” Caitlin laughs softly, a bit more genuine than she’s felt in days. Barry has that effect on her though, that way of melting the frost attached to her bones with a small smile, touch or gesture. He did that long before she was ever Killer Frost.

She chews on her lower lip, almost embarrassed to ask, “Will you stay with me?”

Barry nods his head, “Of course I’ll stay with you.” It’s soft and gentle and intimate in a way that feels like his words are literally wrapping around her like a blanket. He’s gone in flurry of electricity and back before her moments later with a cup of her favorite tea. “Might help you warm back up.”

She takes the cup of tea and wraps her hands around it, walking towards her bed to pull the comforter back. She sets the tea down on her nightstand, sitting on the edge of mattress with a soft sigh. Barry kicks his shoes off and runs a hand through his hair, awkwardly trying to decide if he wants to shed some layers or leave something on.

He decides running to his apartment and returning in a pair of gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt is a better choice and Caitlin can’t say she disagrees. Her breath catches in her throat at seeing him so undone. It’s not like she hasn’t seen him in the STAR LABS sweats before. She has. But this is…this is different. This is in her bedroom and her walls are down. She is exposed.

Barry smiles at her, sits next to her on the bed. Her fingers graze the rim of her tea cup and she wonders if one of these days she’ll be able to control her powers without them consuming her. She’s never much liked the cold, even though she found snow to be beautiful. It won’t be easy, but nothing worth it rarely is.

“I know this is my fault…”

Caitlin shakes her head, turns to look at him. “Barry, don’t—”

“Just…let me finish. Please?” She sighs and closes her eyes, prompting him to continue, “If something worse would have happened to you because of all of this, I would have never forgiven myself.” Barry sighs softly, reaching forward to curl her hair around her ear.

She shivers from his touch, gravitating towards the warmth of his skin.

“I almost lost you. That’s something I’m not willing to entertain again.”

Caitlin opens her eyes, her gaze falling onto forest green ones, his gaze slightly darkened by the gravity of his words. “You won’t have to.” She whispers, leaning closer to him. His touch is steady, calm, grounding. Their faces are seconds apart, breathing in the same air. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Barry nods, his eyes flickering to her lips. With the smallest of nods from her he captures her lips, slow and steady. Her skin feels cold, a harsh comparison to how the other feels—blazing heat like a crackling fire. She leans into the kiss, the softest of noises leaving her mouth.

Even when the first kiss is over, tiny presses of lips occur afterwards. Barry’s mouth on the corner of her own, along her jawline, her nose. Enough to make her smile. His hand never leaves her face, his thumb tracing her cheekbone.

Her hands are warm.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :) check out my other snowbarry fics if you were feeling this one!


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